


Frontierland

by Katelyn_Watson_1991



Series: My Supernatural Life [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s06e18 Frontierland, F/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katelyn_Watson_1991/pseuds/Katelyn_Watson_1991





	Frontierland

We had been searching for a way to kill Eve for days, but we were coming up empty every time. We were starting to feel like we were at the end of our rope when Sam remembered the Campbell family library at the compound. Bobby, Sam, Dean, and I went and Abby stayed with Sawyer for the day. 

“It's here, somewhere. I know it,” Sam said, then turning to me, said, “Help me move this.” We moved a desk and Sam bent down and revealed a trapdoor. 

“I'll be damned,” I said.

We all went down the ladder. I was the last one to make it down and Dean helped me the rest of the way. I turned and was met by stacks of books and papers everywhere. 

“Welcome to the Campbell family library,” Sam said. 

“So, Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?” I asked. 

“Apparently,” Sam answered. 

“Wow. All right, well, what are we looking for?” 

“Well, anything that'll put a run in the Octomom's stockings. Pick a row.” Bobby said as he started to look through the books.

“Bingo,” Bobby said. We were all at the table in the middle of the room. “Any of you jokers ever heard anything about a Phoenix?” he asked. 

“River, Joaquin, or the giant flaming bird?” I said.

“It says here that the ashes of a Phoenix can burn the mother.”

“The mother?” Sam asked. 

“Great. Where do we get one?” I asked. 

“You got me, sweetheart. I thought it was a myth, ” Bobby said. 

“All right, great. Well, let's see if we can find something out about a Phoenix, ” Sam said. 

Sam and Bobby were at the table in the middle of the room looking through the books they had, while Dean and I were sitting at another table away from them. We had been looking for what felt like hours. 

“Guys. Guys, guys, guys, guys, guys, check this out.” Dean said, standing up and walking over to the table where Sam and Bobby were. I followed him to see what he was showing to Bobby and Sam. 

“‘March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a Phoenix today. Left a pile of smoldering ash,’” Dean read from the old book. 

“Really? Whose gun?” I asked excitedly. 

“Colt’s," Dean answered. 

“Colt? Colt like —“ Sam asked. 

“like the Colt. From…” Dean said turning the book around to show them the cover “…Samuel Colt's Journal.” 

“What?!” I asked, “That's his?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said looking at me. 

“Dude, no,” Sam said. 

“Dude, yes,” Dean answered smiling. 

“Well, let me see it,” Sam said, reaching for the book. 

“Get your own,” Dean said, pulling it away from Sam.

“Well, what else did he say about the Phoenix? What does it look like? Has it got feathers?” Bobby asked. 

“It just says ‘Phoenix.’” Dean said. 

“Did he say where he tracked it?” I asked. 

“No.” 

“All right, so I guess we got to find one of our own, whatever it is,” Sam said, deflated. 

“I know where we can find one. March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. We'll ‘Star Trek IV’ this bitch.” Dean said, looking at us. 

Sam just shrugged and Bobby looked confused. 

“We only watched ‘Deep Space Nine.’” I answered, gesturing to Bobby. 

“It's like I don't even know you guys anymore. ‘Star Trek IV’. Save the whales?” Dean said, getting upset.

We all shrugged and looked at him, confused. 

“We hop back in time, we join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the Phoenix, and then we haul the ashes back home with us.” Dean continued. 

“Time travel?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean answered, winking at me. 

“That's a reasonable plan?” Bobby said. 

“We got a guy who can swing it,” Dean said standing up and prayed to Cas. “Castiel. The, uh, fate of the world is in the balance. So, come on down here. Come on, Cas, ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ your ass down here pronto. Please.”

That was when a woman appeared. She was an angel. 

“Jeannie?” Dean asked. 

“Rachel. I understand you need some assistance? How can I help you?” she asked. 

“Well, uh, we kind of need to talk to the Big Kahuna,” Dean said. 

“I'm here on Castiel's behalf,” she answered, annoyed that we needed Cas’ help. 

“Where is he?” I asked. 

“Busy,” she answered, eyeing me like I was trash. 

“Busy?” Dean asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, we've got a line on the mother of freaking everything, so —“ I started to say, then she cut me off.

“I'm sure your issue's very important. But Castiel is currently commanding an army, so —“   
Dean cut in on her words. “So we get stuck with Miss Moneypenny?” he said. 

“So you need to learn your place,” she said, crossing her arms and standing a little taller. 

“Look, I don't know who you think you are —“ I said but then was cut off again. 

“I'm his friend,” she said. 

"What, you think we're not?” Sam asked, sounding a little hurt. 

“I think you call him when you need something. We're fighting a war,” she said. 

“We get that,” I said, crossing my arms. 

“Clearly you don't, or you wouldn't call him every time you stub your toe, you petty, entitled little pie—“ she started, but then was cut off by the strong, deep voice of Cas. 

“Rachel. That's enough,” he said. 

“I told you I'd take care of this,” she said, turning her attention to Cas. 

“It's all right. You can go,” Cas said. 

“You're staying?” She sounded surprised. 

“Go. I'll come when I can,” Cas said. 

“Wow. Friend of yours?” I said, crossing my arms. 

“Yes. She's, uh, my lieutenant. She's...committed to the cause. Now, what do you need?” Cas said. 

We went back to Bobby’s. Dean went to a store to pick some things up to go back in time. Dean had a fetish when it came to the Wild West. He was even trying to get Abby into the old western movies and she was loving spending time with her daddy. Dean had been gone a long time and I was sitting in the living room with Abby, who was wearing cowboy hat and cowboy boots with her hair in braids and a flannel with shorts. 

“Howdy, ‘Daisy Duke’,” Sam said, walking into the room followed by Sawyer who came and sat with me. 

“Hi ya, unca Sam,” Abby said, smiling and reaching for him to hold her. He sat and talked to her for a while, making faces and making her laugh and squirm in his arms. 

“Where the hell's Dean?” Bobby asked. 

“Supply run, he said. I don't know.” I answered from my spot. 

“Um, about your plan. You'll only have 24 hours, ” he said. 

“Wait, what? Why?” Sam asked, looking at Cas in surprise not paying attention to Abby anymore. I stood up and Abby squirmed out of his arms and ran to me. 

“Well, the answer to your question can best be expressed as a series of partial differential equations,” Cas answered. 

“Yeah, aim lower,” Bobby said. 

“The further back I send you, the harder it becomes to retrieve you. 24 hours is all I can risk. If I don't pull you home within that time, you'll be lost to me,” Cas said. 

At his words the room was quiet and Dean walked into the room carrying four large shopping bags. 

“Well, then we better get you a watch,” he said in a loud voice. 

“Daddy!!!” Abby squealed at Dean. 

“Hello, little lady,” he said to her, kissing her cheek and putting the bags on the table in front of Bobby. 

“What the hell's all that?” he asked. 

“We are going native. Got to blend in,” Dean answered, handing Sam and me a bag each that said ‘Wally's Western World’ on them. 

“Uh, no, thanks. I'm fine.” Sam said, looking into the bag. 

I put Abby down and she went over to Sawyer. I looked into the bag that Dean handed me. “I think I’m with Sam on this one,” I said pulling a salon girl dress. “Dean, there is no way in Hell that I am going to wear this dress.” 

“Kelly. Sam,” Dean protested. 

“Dean, I can -- I can wear this.” He gestured to his plaid shirt and jeans. 

“And look like a spaceman?” Dean said. “Kelly, you need to blend in.” 

“How am I supposed to blend in when I look like a slutty college girl on Halloween?” I asked. 

“I was just joking with this outfit. That’s why I bought this one too,” he added, pulling out a complete ‘Annie Oakley’ outfit. 

“Look, just because you're obsessed with all that Wild West stuff —“ I said and Sam nodded. 

“No, I'm not,” Dean argued. 

“You have a fetish,” I said. 

“Shut up. I like old movies,” he said. 

“Really, Dean?” I said, crossing my arms across my chest, remembering the other night when he requested me to wear my cowboy hat and boots to bed. 

“You can recite every Clint Eastwood movie ever made, line for line,” Sam said. 

“Even the monkey movies?” Bobby asked, surprised. 

“Yeah. Especially the monkey movies,” I said. 

“His name is Clyde,” Dean said. 

“I love Clyde!!!” Abby said, “He is my favorite.” 

Dean was full of pride and he smiled at the little three-year-old. Then turning to Sam, he said, “At least wear the damn shirt.” 

The three of us got dressed in our western outfits. I looked like I was ready for an old time wild west show. Sam looked ridiculous in the bright white shirt with embroidered flowers on it. Dean was dressed like he was ready to star in his own western movie.

“Dean, this is stupid. I look stupid,” Sam said. 

“You going to a hoedown?” Bobby asked Dean. 

“Mommy, you look like the lady in my book,” said Abby, smiling at me. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I answered, smiling back at her. 

“Daddy, you look funny,” she said, laughing. 

“Now, is it -- is it customary to wear a blanket?” Cas asked. 

“It's a sarape. And, yes. It's, uh... Never mind. Let's just go.” He looked at the bag that Bobby had packed for us to take. There were gold watches and chains in it. “What's this?” Dean asked, gesturing it all of it. 

“Where you're goin', they don't take plastic,” Bobby answered. 

“I'll send you back to March 4th. That should give you time to find the Colt... and this Phoenix creature,” Cas answered. 

“All right, well, see ya at High Noon tomorrow,” Dean said, clicking his tongue and wrapping his arm around my waist as Cas touched Sam and Dean’s foreheads. Within a blink of an eye, we found ourselves in Sunrise, Wyoming 1861. “Oh, now we're talking,” Dean answered excitedly. Dean let go of my waist and we all exchanged looks. 

“All right. Let's go find Samuel Colt,” I said, looking in-between the two guys. Sam set his watch for 24 hours. 

“Hey, we should try the Saloon first, uh, see what we get from the locals,” Dean said with a grin. 

“Sure,” Sam answered with a chuckle. “Whatever, Sundance.” 

“Think we'll have time to hit on saloon girls?” Dean said with a smug smile. 

“I am standing right here, dumb ass,” I answered, slugging him in the arm. 

“I'm kidding. Come on,” Dean said, taking my hand and we started walking into town. 

“Oh, damn it. Come on,” Sam said, stepping in a pile of horse poop. 

“You know what that is?” I asked with a devilish smile. 

“Yeah, Kell I do; its horse —“ Sam started to say. 

“Authenticity!” Dean interjected. 

Sam groaned and shook the poop off of his boot. We started to walk into town. There was a group of people standing around a single set of gallows watching a public hanging. 

“We stand here today -- March 4th, 1861 -- to execute justice upon Elias Finch for the murder of his own wife,” the judge said. 

“Wow. Talk about authenticity,” I said to Dean, taking a step closer to him so that I was halfway hidden behind him. 

“Sentence handed down by myself, Tye Mortimer, duly appointed judge of the Wyoming circuit. You will be hung by your neck until you die,” Judge Mortimer said to the crowd. 

The sheriff and the man who was being hung were exchanging words. Then a minute later they pulled the lever releasing the trap door and hung the man. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the hanging so I buried my face into Dean’s shoulder and heard the crowd gasp. 

“Good times. So where do we find Sammy Colt?” Dean asked. 

“No idea. Huh.” Sam said. “I think I know who to ask, though.” He gestured to the judge and sheriff.

As we were talking to each other a man turned around and looked at Dean and made a face. “Nice blanket,” he said to Dean. 

Dean looked disappointed and threw off his sarape leaving it on the ground and we walked to the jail. 

“Sheriff? Can we have a word?” I asked as we walked into the jail. 

“Depends who's askin’,” the sheriff said. 

“Marshal Eastwood. Clint Eastwood,” Dean said with a smug smile. “This here is, uh, Walker. He's a Texas Ranger,” he said, gesturing to Sam. “And this is Annie Oakley. She is the best sharpshooter this side of the Mississippi.” 

“So, what can I do for you?” the sheriff asked us.

“Uh, we're looking for a man,” Sam said. 

“I'll bet.” The judge said looking at Dean. “Nice shirt, there.” 

“What's wrong with my shirt?” Dean asked looking down at his shirt. 

“You're very clean,” the judge said. 

“It's dirtier than it looks,” Dean said. 

“We need to find Samuel Colt. Do you know him?” I said, stepping forward. This was taking way too long. 

“The gun maker?” the sheriff said. 

“Yeah. Is he in town?” Dean asked. 

“Not that I know of. Might try asking Elkins over at the Saloon. Been here longer than   
God,” the sheriff said. 

Dean tipped his hat and we walked over to the saloon. It was dirty and dingy inside. I could see Dean deflate a little. 

“This is not awesome,” Dean said. 

I patted him on the shoulder and walked over to the bar.

“Hi,” I said to the bartender. 

“What'll you have?” he asked. 

“Oh, uh, okay. Great. I'll have your top-shelf whiskey,” Dean said. 

“Only have the one shelf,” Elkins answered. 

“That'll do just fine,” Dean answered and then pointed to Sam, “And he'll have a sarsaparilla.” 

“What will you have, sweetheart?” he asked me. 

“Do you have cider?” I asked. 

“Sure do,” he answered, winking at me. 

“You Elkins?” Sam asked. 

“One and only,” he answered as he poured our drinks. 

“You know a man named Samuel Colt?” I asked.

“He passed through here about four years ago,” Elkins answered. 

“He still around?” Sam asked. 

“Rumor is, he's building a railroad stop 20 miles out of town, just by the Postal road. Middle of nowhere, ” he answered. 

“The Devil's Gate?” I whispered to Dean and Sam. 

“Location fits,” Dean answered. 

“Howdy, boys,” a lady said as she walked down the stairs of the saloon. 

“Darla's my best girl,” Elkins and. 

“Try me. You want a kiss?” Darla asked Dean. I couldn't help but giggle at the predicament that he was in. Dean was leaning as far away from Darla as he could. 

“S-so much more germier than I pictured,” Dean said leaning even farther away from Darla. 

“Darla!” Judge Mortimer said, walking into the saloon. 

“Ah. Judge. Nice to see you,” Darla said, turning around. 

“I thought we had a date,” the judge said to Darla. She walked up the stairs to her room, followed closely behind by judge Mortimer. 

“Wow, that was a close one,” Dean said. 

“I guess it's good to be judge,” Sam said an unimpressed look on his face. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, taking a drink of his whiskey, then he spit it out. “Ohh. It's like gasoline,” he said, making a face. 

“You know the cider ain’t half bad,” I said leaning over the bar. 

We were trying to determine where to go next to find Colt when we heard Darla scream. We ran upstairs and found Darla standing in the corner and on the bed was a smoldering skeleton half turned to ash. We called the sheriff to come investigate. 

“You okay, Sheriff?” I asked, noticing how worried he was. 

“'Course I'm okay,” he answered shortly 

“It was a ghost!” Darla interrupted the conversation. 

“It wasn't a ghost. Unless ghosts leave footprints.” The sheriff gestured to the footprints on the floor that led out of the room. 

“I am telling you, Elias Finch was here. He did... that, and then he walked out that door,” she said. She was scared and annoyed that the sheriff wasn't believing her. 

“Rope didn't kill him. Seen it before,” the sheriff said, sounding almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“Well, you got any idea where he could be?” Sam asked. 

“Could be a thousand places,” he answered. 

“Well, you got a way to flush him out?” Dean asked. 

“'Course. We're gonna form a posse. Then we're gonna string Finch up right. Put a bullet in his head for good measure,” the sheriff answered. 

“That actually sounds like a good plan,” I said. 

“You two should come along. Meet downstairs at dawn,” he said to Sam and Dean. “You, little lady, should stay here with Darla.” 

“Stay here, my ass. I am the best shot this side of the Mississippi. Y'all are going to need me,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. 

The sheriff was taken aback by my words and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Well, Eastwood. You have your hands full with this one don't ya?” he said. “If you want to come with us little lady, it's up to you.” 

“I sure do, sheriff. But I love her,” Dean said, putting his arm around my waist. “We’ll be there.” 

“Get yourselves some real gear first, huh?” the sheriff said. 

“Well, I think we ought to pay our respects to Finch,” Dean said, brushing off the comment about his outfit. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sam said. 

Sam, Dean, and I went to cemetery that night to find Finch’s grave. We dug it up, but there was nothing in the coffin but a pile of ash. 

“You thinking what I'm thinking?” Sam asked. 

“Rose from the ashes, burned up its victim? You know, maybe we're not looking for a flaming bird, ” I said, looking between Sam and Dean. “Maybe the Phoenix is actually walking around in cowboy boots.” 

“That makes sense, right? Could be Finch. So, question is, how do we put this thing out?” Sam asked. 

“Well, we do know one thing that'll kill friggin' anything, right?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, the Colt,” Sam and I said together. 

“So, you go get the gun,” Dean said looking at Sam. 

“But isn't the gun coming here? I mean, according to Samuel Colt's journal?” I asked, a little bit confused. 

“Yeah, but people here barely even know who Colt is. Maybe you got to go find him and make history,” Dean said, hitting Sam’s shoulder lightly. 

We’ll stay here, hook up with the posse,” Dean said, a stupid smile on his face. “'Cause you know me -- I'm a posse magnet,” he said, trying not to laugh at his own joke. “I mean, I love posse. Make that into a t-shirt.” He gestured across his chest, smiling. 

“You done?” I asked. Why do I have to love this man? He acts like he is about twelve, I thought to myself. 

“Look, the problem is Colt's 20 miles outside of town. How am I supposed to get there and back before noon?” Sam asked Dean.

At that very moment, we heard a horse in the distance. “Ride 'em, cowboy.” 

We walked back into town and saw a man sitting outside of the saloon with his horse. 

“You wouldn't be selling this fine horse would you?” I asked in my sweetest voice.

“I wasn't planning on it, Mama. But if the price is right we could make a deal,” he answered. 

“What were you thinking?” I asked, winking at the man. 

“$120,” he said. 

“I’ve only got 20 gold pieces. Will that be enough?” I asked him in a very innocent voice. 

“That will be perfect. Thank you, darlin’,” he said, winking at me. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Sam looked nervous as he approached the horse. 

“Sam, have you ever ridden a horse before?” I asked as I was petting the horse's nose and forehead. 

“Yes, Kell. I have ridden a horse,” Sam said, trying his best to hide his frustration and nervousness. 

“Wh-- uh, try -- try the other side. Yeah, good boy,” Dean said, addressing the horse. 

“Right,” Sam said as he got onto the horse as I led him around a little so that Sam could get comfortable. “Yeah. Right. Hey. This actually feels alright.”

“All right, take it -- just take it easy,” I said taking a step back from Sam and the horse, handing the reins to Sam. 

“Yeah, you bet. I'm good. All right, 11:00 A.M., right?” Sam asked, looking down at us. He looked funny on the back of the horse. He was so tall and uncomfortable. 

“Don’t be late!” I said. 

“Okay,” Sam said. 

“All right. Go on. Go. Hyah!” Dean said, getting the horse going.

“I'm okay!” Sam said, waving back to us. 

“That poor horse,” I said to Dean trying to stifle a laugh. Dean looked down at me a slight smile on his face. I turned to Dean and put my arms around his neck. “Dean, I think it's time to play a game.” 

Dean looked down at me with a questioning look. “What did you have in mind, sweetheart?” he asked. 

I got up on my tiptoes and kissed Dean. He pulled me close to him and I broke the kiss by pulling away and turning to go to the hotel. I pulled Dean behind me and we made our way to the hotel in town for the night. When we made it into our room I pushed Dean onto the bed straddled his lap. He hands were on my back trying to take control but I wouldn't give him that just yet. 

“So you're a ‘posse magnet’, are you?” I asked in my best southern bell accent. 

“Well, darlin’ you're here aren't you?” he answered with a wink. 

Cocky bastard, I thought to myself as I kissed him. He flipped me over and started to kiss my neck and we made love more passionately than we ever had. Even with how dirty the wild west was it was going to hold a place in my heart forever. 

“Well, that was a wild west show,” I said to him the next morning stretching and smiling.

“Yeah, it was, sweetheart,” he said as he rolled out of bed. 

“Do we have to get up or can we relive this rodeo, cowboy?” I asked. 

“Oh, how I would love to take you up on that offer, sweetheart. But, we need to get us some new clothes so that we can meet up with the posse.” At the last word, he emphasized the ‘p’.

I got up, putting on my ‘Annie Oakley’ outfit and Dean put his Western clothes on. We made our way to the general store where Dean got a coat, hat, shirt, and belt. I got myself a pair of jeans, a shirt, and vest as well as a hat. We looked like we fit in and I was comfortable again. We walked to the saloon to meet up with the sheriff and the posse but when Dean and I walked in the only people who were there were Darla, Elkins, and an old man sleeping at one of the tables. 

“New hat?” Elkins said. 

“I look good. Where's the posse?” Dean asked with a smirk on his face. “We must be early.” 

“Or you two are the only greenhorns dumb enough to go chasing after a ghost,” Elkins said. 

“What are you talking about? Sheriff's tough as nails. He'll be here,” I said, slightly confused.

Then from outside, we heard a man yelling “Oh, God! The Sheriff's dead!” 

“Or not,” I said, looking at Dean. 

We ran outside and found a pile of ash and bones with the sheriff’s badge on top of it.

“Great. Who's the Sheriff now?” Dean asked. 

Elkins took the badge and pinned it to Dean’s shirt. 

“What. What…” Dean started to protest. 

“Now...Congratulations, Sheriff.” Elkins said smiling. 

Dean and I exchanged looks and decided to go find the deputy since he was the last left alive. We found out where his house was and went there to find him. Dean knocked on the door and we heard the deputy cuss, before he appeared at the door. 

“Who's there?” he asked, his voice shaky and scared. 

“Candygram for Mongo,” Dean said in a high voice.

“Howdy, pilgrim,” I said. 

“I ain't no pilgrim,” he answered. 

Dean and I walked into the room. “All right, back up,” Dean said. The deputy had his gun drawn and pointed at the two of us. “Is that any way to, uh... Greet your new boss?” Dean said, showing off his badge. 

The deputy scoffed and I wanted to punch him in the face. “We missed you at the posse this morning,” I said. “We were the only ones that showed up.” I looked behind the deputy and saw an open suitcase with clothes everywhere. “What's going on here?” 

“Going to visit my sister,” he answered, walking over to his suitcase. 

“Well, she'll have to wait,” Dean said. 

“But if I don't —“ he argued. 

“Finch said he was coming back for the former Sheriff...Judge Mortimer... and you. That's two down and one to go,” Dean said. 

“Then just let me go!” the deputy said. “She can be your new deputy. I quit.” 

I rolled my eyes at the deputy. What a coward, I thought to myself. 

“You really think you can outrun him? He is going to kill you. Unless…” Dean said. 

“Unless what?” the deputy said. 

“Unless we gank him first,” I said. 

“‘Gank'? What's ‘gank’? Mister, you're crazy. No way. You're on your own,” the deputy said, getting flustered and upset. 

“We’re not asking you to throw down with him. We’re asking you to play your part,” Dean said. 

“My part?” 

“Yeah. Bait,” I said, giving him a cold smile.

Dean hit the deputy, knocking him out, and we took him to the Jail. Dean put him into the cell and we sat down, waiting for Sam to show up. 

“Never been late in your damn life, Sam, and now you're dragging ass,” I said, spinning my gun and looking at the clock. It was 10:00 A.M. 

“So this is your big plan, huh? Just let me rot in here ‘til Finch comes?” the deputy asked. 

“Pretty much,” I said looking over my shoulder. “Why's he gunning for you, anyway?” 

“I guess you missed the part where we hung him?” he answered, annoyed. 

“No, I'm thinking to a thing like Finch, that's no big whoop. He would've just blown town, but he came back. That seems personal,” I said, turning to look at the deputy. 

“I'll tell you what -- you let me out of here, and we'll talk,” he said, leaning against the bars. 

“No can do,” Dean said. 

At that moment Elias Finch walked into the Jail. 

“Open up that cell,” he said. 

“Open it yourself. You melt people's faces off. I'll bet you got the juice to tear that apart easy, don't you? Unless you can't. Just like you couldn't break those cuffs when they strung you up.” Dean said taking a step in front of me to protect me from Finch. At the same time, he was talking he picked up an iron nail and threw it at Finch. He caught it because of reflex and gasped in pain dropping the nail. 

“Iron shackles...iron bars, iron nail. See a pattern? Don't worry. Most creatures I meet can't get it up for iron. It's a common monster problem,” Dean said. 

“So you're a hunter,” Finch stated. 

“Slash sheriff,” Dean said proudly. 

“You know what this son of a bitch did?” 

“Do tell.” 

“I was married to a woman. Good woman -- human. We lived outside of town, didn't bother anyone.” Finch explained. 

“Sure, freak with a heart of gold,” I said getting up off of the desk and standing next to Dean. 

“You want to call me ‘monster’, fine. But all we did was go into town. I go into the bank for five minutes. I come out, she's gone. And then I heard her scream,” he said with pain in his voice. “This... man had her pinned in the alley. I go to stop him, he pulls his gun, shoots me, then her. She died in my arms. 'Course, I don't die. The shots brought the Sheriff. Next thing I know, I'm in iron. That's why I want him just where he is -- trapped, scared. I saved the best for last.” 

“Is that true?” I asked turning to the deputy. There was fear in his eyes as well as guilt. 

“So tell me -- are you really willing to die to protect this piece of filth?”

I sat there, knowing that I would love to give this piece of trash to Finch, but we needed the ash of a phoenix. 

“Honestly, I could care less about him. He's a dick and a coward.” Dean said. 

“Hey!” The deputy yelled. 

“But this ain't about him. I know what you are.” Dean said. 

“Really?” Finch asked. 

“Yeah. So...I got to kill you.” 

“Well, if you know what I am, then you know you can’t,” Finch said. 

At that moment Finch grabbed his gun from his holster and shot the deputy.

“Wow, I should've seen that coming,” I said. I turning and ran for the window jumped through it. I landed perfectly and started running trying to dodge the bullets that Finch was firing at Dean and me. We were running and then Dean pulled me into a corner to hide from Finch. We were hiding for about 15 minutes when we heard Sam’s voice. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled. “Kell!” 

“Sam, come on, come on!” Dean said, waving him over to us. 

“Hey, where's Colt?” I asked. 

“He's not coming.” 

“What?!” I asked 

“But he sent this,” Sam said pulling out the colt and handing it to Dean.

“Ohh. Hello, beautiful.” Dean said looking at the colt.

“All right,” I said to Dean. “We don't have time for you to fondle your beloved colt.” 

“Come on,” Sam said. 

We made our way to the main street so that Dean could take on Finch, arriving just before twelve noon.

Dean walked into the middle of the street. 

“Get out here, Finch!” Dean yelled. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” I asked, starting to follow. 

Sam put his arms around my waist to stop me and Dean motioned for us to not follow him. 

“Come on, let's do this!” he yelled again. 

Finch walked out of an alleyway and walked onto the main street across from Dean. Sam saw him and pulled me close to him as we hid behind a barrel. 

“So this is how you wanna die,” Finch said as he looked at Dean. “Fine.” 

They waited until the clock struck twelve and they shot their weapons. Dean’s shot was perfect, hitting Finch in the chest. Finch looked at Dean in shock and burst into flames, burning away to a pile of ashes.

“Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” Dean said. 

The clock was still striking the last few times before it would be twelve. I looked at Dean who was still looking at the pile of ashes. “Dean! The ashes!” I yelled at him. He looked ran toward the ashes and just as he was about to pick up the ashes we were back at Bobby’s and the bottle Dean was trying to fill with the ashes was empty. I looked at Cas who was standing next to Bobby who looked like he had been in a fight. I ran to him and gave him a hug. 

“Dad! Are you alright?” I asked.   
“I’ve been better, sweetheart,” he answered. 

Abby must have heard us because she ran down the stairs with Sawyer right behind her. “Mommy!!! Daddy!!! Unca Sam!!! You're back!!!” she yelled as she made it down the stairs. I pulled her close to me and held her in my arms. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” I said. 

The room got quiet as Abby held onto me. 

“You gotta send us back,” Dean said.

“Dean, look at him. He's fried,” I said, looking at Cas.

“I never want to do that again,” Cas said. 

“Bobby, you —“ Dean started to ask. 

“I'm still kickin', Annie Oakley. Be back good as new in… a decade or two,” Bobby said. 

“No, Pops. Mommy is Annie Oakley!!!” Abby said climbing into Bobby’s lap. He nodded and pulled her close to his chest. 

“And we screwed the pooch. Bobby, I'm sorry,” Dean said. 

No one spoke, we just looked at each other sadly. There was a knock at the front door and Sam went to go see who it was. When he came back he had a box under one arm and a letter in the other hand. He put the box down and started to read the letter out loud. 

“'Dear Sam, I got this address and date off your thingamajig, and I thought the enclosed might come in handy. Regards, Samuel Colt.’” He read as he pulled out a bottle full of ashes from the package.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bobby asked. 

“Ashes of a Phoenix. You know what this means?” Dean said, excited.

“Yeah, I didn't get a ‘soulonoscopy’ for nothing,” Bobby said. 

“Yes. And... it means we take the fight to her,” Dean said, putting his arm around me and looking at the bottle full of ashes.


End file.
